COMING HOME: Awe and wonder in my childhood

Sheila Leto Scott

By Sheila Leto Scott | Special to The News Herald

Published: Saturday, August 31, 2013 at 12:07 PM.

When I think back on my childhood in the 1940s and 1950s, I remember many unspectacular things that filled me with awe and wonder. Our lives were fairly simple, so we were often filled with amazement at what would be seen as ordinary today. This was especially true when I left the boundaries of Bay County and eventually even Florida.

When I was a small child we visited my grandparents in Ybor City, the Latin Quarter of Tampa, every summer. As we sat on the porch each evening, I was intrigued by the lively stream of people moving along the wide sidewalk in front of the house. It was especially exotic because the people were speaking Spanish and Italian. There was a Cuban grocery at the corner, shifts changed in the cigar factory, and neighbors walked about visiting since few people had cars. It also was cooler outside than inside the non air conditioned houses.

Back at home, how easily entertained we could be spreading out blankets on the grass and gazing at the stars. A full moon with clouds appearing to weave in and out was even more amazing. I especially remember a night like that at Lake Merial. Aunt Louise and Uncle Claude had taken my cousin Freida and me fishing. As it was growing dark, we packed up to return home, but the car wouldn’t start. Aunt Louise spread out a blanket and turned our long wait into a wonder filled adventure. Eventually, the car was started and we were disappointed we couldn’t spend the night.

My parents took Freida and me on the trip of a lifetime when I was about 11 years old. We drove our 1949 Chevrolet from Panama City to San Diego. We were thrilled to buy fresh cherries at the Farmer’s Market in the French Quarter of New Orleans and to keep them cool on our motel’s window air conditioner. We had never bought cherries at home, though the Piggly Wiggly might have sold them, and we definitely didn’t have an air conditioner.

We couldn’t understand why all the cars kept blowing at us during rush hour in Houston, until we realized the traffic lights were on the side of the road, not hanging over the middle, like on Harrison Avenue. Daddy must have run 10 red lights by the time we made that discovery. Lucky to be alive, we laughed and laughed. We had a canvas bag of water to keep the radiator from over-heating in the desert. Freida and I were intrigued that the car might blow up any minute. We freaked out after a final switchback curve led us down one side of the Pecos River Canyon and up the other side. None of us had ever been higher than the roof of the Dixie Sherman Hotel. In California, Daddy was so surprised to find himself driving over other cars as he rounded a curve that he almost drove off our very first super highway.

However, of all of these, the thing that made the most lasting impression on me was swimming in a motel pool one night in Arizona. The motel wasn’t fancy and the pool wasn’t large, but Freida and I had never been in a pool at night and had never experienced the magic of swimming through water with lights glowing. It was like being in a moving rainbow of delight and was my favorite awe and wonder of all.

What filled you with joy as a child? Email jsscott@comcast.net.

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When I think back on my childhood in the 1940s and 1950s, I remember many unspectacular things that filled me with awe and wonder. Our lives were fairly simple, so we were often filled with amazement at what would be seen as ordinary today. This was especially true when I left the boundaries of Bay County and eventually even Florida.

When I was a small child we visited my grandparents in Ybor City, the Latin Quarter of Tampa, every summer. As we sat on the porch each evening, I was intrigued by the lively stream of people moving along the wide sidewalk in front of the house. It was especially exotic because the people were speaking Spanish and Italian. There was a Cuban grocery at the corner, shifts changed in the cigar factory, and neighbors walked about visiting since few people had cars. It also was cooler outside than inside the non air conditioned houses.

Back at home, how easily entertained we could be spreading out blankets on the grass and gazing at the stars. A full moon with clouds appearing to weave in and out was even more amazing. I especially remember a night like that at Lake Merial. Aunt Louise and Uncle Claude had taken my cousin Freida and me fishing. As it was growing dark, we packed up to return home, but the car wouldn’t start. Aunt Louise spread out a blanket and turned our long wait into a wonder filled adventure. Eventually, the car was started and we were disappointed we couldn’t spend the night.

My parents took Freida and me on the trip of a lifetime when I was about 11 years old. We drove our 1949 Chevrolet from Panama City to San Diego. We were thrilled to buy fresh cherries at the Farmer’s Market in the French Quarter of New Orleans and to keep them cool on our motel’s window air conditioner. We had never bought cherries at home, though the Piggly Wiggly might have sold them, and we definitely didn’t have an air conditioner.

We couldn’t understand why all the cars kept blowing at us during rush hour in Houston, until we realized the traffic lights were on the side of the road, not hanging over the middle, like on Harrison Avenue. Daddy must have run 10 red lights by the time we made that discovery. Lucky to be alive, we laughed and laughed. We had a canvas bag of water to keep the radiator from over-heating in the desert. Freida and I were intrigued that the car might blow up any minute. We freaked out after a final switchback curve led us down one side of the Pecos River Canyon and up the other side. None of us had ever been higher than the roof of the Dixie Sherman Hotel. In California, Daddy was so surprised to find himself driving over other cars as he rounded a curve that he almost drove off our very first super highway.

However, of all of these, the thing that made the most lasting impression on me was swimming in a motel pool one night in Arizona. The motel wasn’t fancy and the pool wasn’t large, but Freida and I had never been in a pool at night and had never experienced the magic of swimming through water with lights glowing. It was like being in a moving rainbow of delight and was my favorite awe and wonder of all.